


If He Only Knew

by MidnightMinx90



Series: The Love of an Assassin [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed II - Fandom, Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood - Fandom, Assassin's Creed: Revelations - Fandom
Genre: Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMinx90/pseuds/MidnightMinx90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>****THIS BE CONTAINING SPOILERS! YE BE WARNED!****<br/>Spoilers for The Lost Archive inside</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Shaun Hastings

What Shaun really meant when he said "Hello Desmond. Go away" was "Hello Desmond. If you wouldn't mind terribly, I would really like to fuck you up your arse so hard, you wouldn't even be able to lie in the Animus, much less train".  
Yeah, it would go REALLY well if he tried to tell him that.  
Even un-trained, the ex-bartender was fit. Shaun could easily imagine his taunt muscles; his abs, his biceps.  
Once, he'd seen the end of a tribal tattoo, and he'd felt his mouth water at the thought.  
If it had been anyone else's tattoo, he wouldn't have, but this was Desmond's tattoo, his muscular arm that was traced by black ink, which Shaun desperately wanted to trace.  
He wanted to look at those muscles, look at the way they'd flex, the way the tattoo would move

Shaun Hastings had wanted to shag Desmond Miles from the moment he laid eyes on him.  
In the beginning that was all, he'd just wanted to fuck him, wouldn't even care to be "friends-with-benefits". He was a bloody American after all.  
Over time however, he found that his feelings grew deeper and stronger for the bloody wanker, despite the fact that he tried his hardest to keep him miles away (it was something he failed at... Desperately at that).  
And then it suddenly dawned on him one day that he loved the bastard.  
He wasn't sure what to feel about that.  
Though, if he was to be completely honest with himself, he did know; he just didn't want to admit it, because it made it that much more real, and he couldn't go back on it.

He wanted Desmond to love him back. As simple and heartbreakingly complicate as that.  
Just a handful of people knew that Shaun was gay. But if Desmond could ever love him back, he's happily declare to the whole world (or what would be left of it if the Templars got their way) that he, Shaun Hastings; British historian and sarcasm-using know-it-all, was gay and loved Desmond Miles, an annoying American wanker. 

Another part of Desmond that Shaun often found himself drooling over was his arse.  
Oh, the way he swayed his hips when he was walking, like he was a bloody prostitute or stripper. Shaun refused to let his mind wander in that direction, just thinking about Desmond in the same sentence as the word "stripper" made his cock twitch a tad too much as far as Shaun was concerned.  
He must've picked it up on the bars he's been working at.  
Or did I come naturally? After all, he'd seen Altaïr and Ezio do it as well (though it was more prominent to Ezio, but he was a ladies man and might've done it on purpose).  
Or did Desmond, as well as Ezio, do it on purpose?  
Bloody American, he only did it because of Lucy, or maybe even Rebecca; it was the only logical solution Shaun's mind could come up with after all.  
He groaned. What he wouldn't give to be able to enjoy that gorgeous piece off arse, and to have it, and the man, all to himself.  
His cock twitched again. Damn.

And then there was the fact that Shaun had decided, in his constant musings over the ex-bartender, that he was like a natural predator, even un-trained and out of shape as he was.  
Sometimes, the Bleeding Effect would take hold of him, and Shaun would find him owling at the tables, bed, couch, or down in the warehouse itself.  
One time, he'd been unfortunate enough to surprise the assassin while he was caught up in some distant memories and Desmond (or was it Altaïr or Ezio?) had pounced on him.  
Shaun had never been more pleased of the fact that Desmond didn't have a hidden blade equipped.  
But even so, seeing the danger in the situation he'd gotten himself into, he'd been turned on.  
And the first thought to run through his head as he was pinned on the ground was not "SHIT! I could have died" but "SHIT! If he'd only been aware and done this on purpose because he wants me as bad as I want him".

Shaun was glad he was sitting with his back to the others, because now, as he was musing over all the things about Desmond Miles that turned him on, he found he'd gotten quite hard. He turned around, making sure Desmond was still deep in his session, and that the girls wouldn't look at him as he stood. His gaze flickered to Desmond and he found himself wanting to jump his bone right then and there, not giving a bloody fuck about the girl's reactions.  
Turning around sharply, he made his way to the bathroom, making sure to lock the door properly, so no one would walk in on him; he had to take care of his 'problem'.

Wasting no time, he unzipped his pants and dropped them to the floor along with his underwear.  
Taking his cock into his hand, he hissed at the feeling, and started stroking up and down; slowly at first, then faster and harder as he imagined Desmond's hand wrapped around his length. His pre-come helped the speed, making him slick and feeling closer to release by each stroke of his thumb over the slit.  
Not wanting to spend too long in the bathroom (which would make the girls immensely curious as to what he was up to) and feeling close to release, yet still feeling it wasn't enough with just his hand, he moved his free hand to his mouth, licking his middle and index fingers, putting them in his mouth, pretending it was Desmond's calloused ones.  
It didn't take long before he came, biting down on his fingers, almost drawing blood as he tried to keep from screaming the ex-bartender's name as he came.  
Leaning against the wall, feeling spent, he tried to get back to his normal breathing pattern and to calm his erratic heart.  
Gathering some paper towels, he wet them and cleaned up after himself, making 100% sure there were no traces of what he'd just done. 

It hit him then, just what he'd done. He just came to the image of a co-worker, one that wasn't gay, and didn't know how Shaun felt. He felt sick; he felt like he'd invaded the other's privacy.  
If he found out someone did the same to him (apart from Desmond, he wouldn't mind that), he would feel ashamed and used.  
He took a deep breath and exited the bathroom. 

If Shaun had paid attention to Desmond in a different way (in some aspects), he'd notice how different Desmond was with him. He'd also notice that in Desmond's eyes, the same feelings as the Brit laid, just waiting to be noticed by the historian.  
However, on the other hand, if he HAD noticed, h would've brushed it off as his mind playing him cruel tricks.

If he only knew.


	2. Desmond Miles

Contrary to popular belief (read: Shaun's), Desmond did not listen to Shaun's audio files in the Animus database because he'd "forgotten something", or because he "needed to".  
No, he did it because he wanted to.  
He did it because it was _Shaun_.  
It was Shaun's voice, the energetic and exited way in which he spoke, that made Desmond keep coming back for more, over and over again. Even though he now knew the stories of his ancestor's enemies by heart, he didn't care; he wouldn't stop listening.  
It didn't matter what the other's thought.

Contrary to popular belief (again: Shaun's); Shaun did not know everything.  
For instance, he did not know how Desmond felt about him.  
When Desmond heard Shaun speak like he did in the audio files, how happy he sounded, he couldn't help but be reminded of Leonardo, and even Malik to some extent. He knew how his ancestors felt when they heard them talk in that way. He could practically see the sparkling eyes of Leo and Malik as they read and talked about the things that made them happy and excited, as they wrote it down and learned more.  
He could see in his mind the kind, knowing smiles upon Ezio and Altaïr's faces as they stood witness to it, and how happy it made them that their dearest, oldest friends had something they were so extremely passionate about.  
He also felt their longing to be with them.

Contrary to popular belief (Shaun had to stop assuming things), Desmond was **not** just some kind of stupid, idiotic, _bloody_ American who didn't care about anyone but himself, the rest of the world be damned.  
Well, maybe in the beginning, when he was held prisoner at Abstergo, and sometimes at the Farm, but apart from that; no.  
But not now.  
Now he has Lucy and Rebecca.  
Now he has Shaun.  
And all he wants, what he wants most of all in the whole wide world, is for them to be safe (even though Lucy's annoying the hell outta him several times a day).  
Even if it means he has to watch Shaun find a person to love that's not him.  
Maybe it would be easier if he died a martyr's death - he knew Shaun wouldn't mind (at least as long as he completed his job first, so all their work wouldn't be wasted)  and the girls would cry, but they had each other and they would get through this.  
Indeed, maybe it would be better and easier if he had to die, if he had to sacrifice himself for the sake of the others, for the sake of everyone's safety and peace. 

If he was to tell the others his opinion on this matter, he was sure as hell that Shaun would tell him to "go right ahead" and not to "let me stop you". He would also be told to "do it in a clean way, I refuse to clean up your bloody mess". Yes, as long as it was after they'd saved the world, and as long as he did in a clean enough way, Shaun would not mind.  
He wasn't sure of Rebecca's reaction (though he knew she'd be pissed off), but knew Lucy would throw something at him, hit him, yell at him and then make him work out even harder than she already did.  
Desmond would have nothing of it; he saw Shaun rarely enough as it was, despite the fact that they were constantly within twenty meters of each other.  
But with Desmond constantly in the Animus, he couldn't observe Shaun as he wanted to.  
And when he was out of the chair, Shaun was constantly sitting at his computer, typing away, either trying to solve "the Truth" left by the infamous Subject 16, trying to contact the remaining Assassin Teams or doing any and all kinds of research containing their goal.

Sometimes, no, scratch that, most of the time - meaning every time Desmond walked over to Shaun, who said "Hello Desmond. Go away" or something similar - Desmond wanted to pounce on him and fuck him right then and there, not caring about the girl's reactions. He didn't want do to it (just) to shut him up, but simply because he wanted to.  
Of course, he'd let him talk as they fucked, no doubt about it, cause he loves his voice, his accent and he REALLY wanted him to curse, especially in British, cause that REALLY turned Desmond on.

Contrary to popular beliefs (just WHEN would Shaun stop assuming things?!), Desmond did NOT "fancy" busty, blonde girls in mini-skirts and tiny bikinis.  
If he was ever forced to acknowledge a fetish, it would be his fetish for one sarcastic, know-it-all, auburn-haired, downright annoying Brit.  
And he'd tell them that no one would ever turn him on, nor simultaneously make him want to hold and cuddle another person and be content to stay that way for eternity (screw food and drink) in the same way, whispering sweet nothings to one another as one Shaun Hastings would-

Desmond might be young, but he knew all about love; he'd learned that from not only his own (rather limited) experience, but from Altaïr and Ezio as well.  
And he knew how it felt to feel love unrequited.  
But Shaun didn't know, couldn't know.

But oh, if he only knew


	3. Leonardo da Vinci

Leonardo da Vinci loved the womanizing Assassin since the first time he laid eyes on him, before he became an assassin, before his whole world crumbled together with the deaths of his father and brothers. 

Ezio Auditore was then a boy of 17 - for he was not yet a man then - working for his father in their family business. The Auditore's was a rather wealthy banking family, just like de Pazzi and the rules of the city; de Medici.  
He arrived with his mother, Madonna Maria, to collect the finished commissions (for Leo was actually done with them, which was rather unusual).

Leonardo was interested in the boy, inquiring as to what he was doing (though he knew to a certain degree) and if he wanted to continue along that path, or if he had any other interests. His reply was that he was not sure, but Leonardo thought he did not seem interested in it.

Arriving at Palazzo Auditore, Ezio put down the box with the paintings and disappeared into his father's office to see if he could help in any way. Leonardo joined the Madonna into the Palazzo to find the perfect places for the paintings.

The next time Leonardo met the Assassin, for so he was to be from now on, he was not himself. He had snuck up to the tower where his father and brothers were held prisoners. He was instructed by his father to return to their home, and find everything that was in the chest in the hidden room in his office; he'd told Leonardo as much when he asked what had happened.  
In the chest there were several letters and documents which Messer Giovanni had instructed him to bring to the Gonfalaniore. The documents proves the innocence of Ezio's family, as well as Ezio's own  
Ezio didn't have to tell Leonardo why he came, not just because Leonardo would read it in the way Ezio was behaving, but simply because he didn't have to explain himself to Leonardo.

Leonardo told him then, that he would always be there for him - no matter what it was Ezio needed, be it a warm meal, a comfortable bed, a friend, or just a safe haven - Leonardo was happy to help.  
He thought to himself that he would always be there to welcome Ezio with a kind smile on his face and his arms wide open, ready to embrace him.  
Leonardo could sense the desperation in the man, and vowed himself that he would do whatever was in his power to keep Ezio from desperation and despair.  
And why wouldn't he? After all, he loved the man.

Ezio left not long after, to deliver the papers.  
The next time Leonardo saw him, he was in shock and did not know what do to; he had just witnessed the hanging of Giovanni, and Federico and little Petruccio.  
Leonardo had already heard the news (who hadn't?), and welcomed Ezio with open arms and hid the look of pity in his eyes, for Ezio's sake.  
Ezio insisted on having to go to his mother and sister to tell them the news, but Leonardo coaxed him into staying, if just for the night, just so he did not have to deal with it all right now. This way, he could spare him for it, if just for a few hours.  
Leonardo told Ezio to take his bed; he himself would take the divan in the studio.  
He guided Ezio to his sleeping chamber, and gently coaxed him out of his armor.  
Just he turned around to leave, he felt a shaking, slightly calloused hand, grab his own.  
"Stay," Ezio whispered, and Leonardo did not need any more convincing. Hurrying out of his own clothing and into his sleepwear, he crawled into bed besides Ezio, letting the younger's arms hold him tight.  
When he awoke the morning after, Ezio was gone.

He showed up a few days later, with a codex-page and a broken hidden blade.  
Leonardo was exited beyond belief when he got to translate it and rebuild the broken blade, he even joked with Ezio about having to cut his finger off.  
And when he straight afterwards was attacked by a guard, he was immensely grateful for Ezio and his blade.  
After making sure Leonardo was alright, Ezio thanked him for his help, and, when Leonardo asked, he promise he'd bring back the other Codex-pages he'd come across.

Leonardo did not see Ezio for two years. He knew he'd taken his mother and his sister Claudia to his Uncle Mario in Monterriggioni, because he told him so as he departed.  
But Leonardo had not heard from him in the meantime, and was worried for him.  
Every night, he laid alone in his bed that now seemed far too big for one person alone and his thoughts strayed to Ezio. How was he doing? He surely wouldn't be dead, he would know it if he was, right?  
And so the two years passed, until Ezio suddenly stood at his door again, as if he'd only been gone for a few hours.  
But it was visible that he had been gone for longer than that. Leonardo could feel the muscles as he hugged him close, and he could see the death, hatred and pure FORCE in Ezio's eyes. He hated it.  
He hated to see what just two short (long for him) years had done to the man who had his heart without knowing it.  
Who knew how long this would continue?  
So he buried his worries for the time being; not wanting Ezio to notice and ask.  
Instead, he enjoyed the challenges given by the Codex-pages and the nights spent by Ezio's side in bed.

Ezio had declined using the bed at first, but Leonardo said that he should take the bed, after all, how often did he get to spend the night "in a soft warm bed..?. He quickly added "that's not in one of the bordellos?" in a teasing manner. He had expected Ezio to comment on the last part, but he did not. Instead, he'd accepted the bed, but only as long as Leonardo shared it with him.  
Just because he was there for a few days, didn't mean the artist had to give up his bed for the assassin.  
And so Leonardo got to spend some hours each night next to the man of his dreams.

For Leonardo, every moment Ezio was "home" was bliss.  
But he knew it couldn't last. Which is why, on what Leonardo knew was to be their last night together for a long time; he made Ezio promise him one thing.  
He made him promise he would come back safe and sound. And he reminded him of the vow he made two years ago; that this door was always open, that there would always be a free spot for him in the bed and a free stool in the kitchen for him to eat at.  
And Ezio promised, even though they both knew very well that it was not a promise he could keep.  
But Leonardo still felt safer, because now he knew just by looking at Ezio that he would at least try, e would try for Leo's sake.

And sure enough, just like two years ago, Ezio was gone when Leonardo woke.  
Leonardo's life passed in much the same manner as the previous two, but with more offers now. He also worked more on his inventions, not just his paintings. He was behind on several of them, due to his ability to procrastinate. 

When he missed Ezio too much, he would retire to his sleeping chamber and draw and sketch Ezio based on his memory.  
Other times, he'd hug a pillow, pretending it was the assassin he held close.  
And other times still, he succumbed to his primal instincts, and masturbated to the memory of him.  
He was not proud of it, and therefor he would not do in unless he felt he had no choice.  
He knew there was no point in spending money on a courtesan; there was no point in even trying. It was better this way.

And so, another two years passed.  
Leonardo did not like it, not at all, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.  
And even though Ezio had chosen to continue on this long and winding path after being thrown onto it, it was necessary, it had to be done for the sake of the world.  
No, Leonardo did not like it. But he understood it, and therefor he would accept it. After all, he loved the man.  
He did not feel confident enough to admit to his feelings, if he were given the chance; instead he would cherish the few moments they got to be together.  
If the assassin came back hurt, Leonardo would be there to fix him. 

No, Leonardo da Vinci was sure that he would never find the courage to admit his feelings for Ezio Auditore da Firenze. Instead, he settled for continuing to be what he had been for years now; his friend and companion through all parts of life.  
They could be together in Leonardo's dreams, and he accepted that.

Still, if only he knew.


	4. Ezio Auditore da Firenze

Ezio Auditore da Firenze had never admitted to anyone, barely to himself in fact, that he owed his life to a small group of people. That particular group consisted of his mother, sister, Uncle Mario, Paola, Sister Teodora, Caterina, Cristina, Lorenzo di Medici, Antonio, Rosa, Bartalomeo, La Volpe, Nicollò Machiavelli and last but not least Leonardo da Vinci.

Apart from Leonardo, one would immediately guess why he owed it to everyone else.  
First his family; his mother first and foremost for giving him life; she and his sister for keeping him grounded when grief and vengeance threatened to overtake him; and his uncle for training him when he arrived at Monteriggioni and convincing him to stay, instead of leaving with his mother and sister as he had intended.  
After that, Lorenzo de Medici for having kept his father safe for as long as he could, and then protecting Ezio from his own guards upon his return.  
Then his friends; Cristina for teaching him all about love, and still being there after what happened to his family; Paola for teaching him to pickpocket and to hide in plain sight; Antonio and Rosa for his new climbing skills and for providing him a place to stay in Venice; Bartalomeo for helping him fight; La Volpe for the sneaky cunning of a fox, and for helping him find his targets; Caterina for getting him into Venice and later taking care of him after he lost the Apple to Savonarola; Machiavelli for helping him and Caterina in Forlí and later on in Firenze and being the one to induct Ezio into the Order of the Assassins; and Sister Teodora for helping him when it came to dealing with Silvio Barbarigo during il Carnivale.  
But out of all of this, Leonardo da Vinci was the one he owed his life to the most; in fact, if Ezio was to choose only one of his family and companions to die instead of, it would be Leonardo.

He knew from the moment he laid eyes on the painter that his life was forever altered. There was something so utterly intriguing about him that just drew Ezio in from the start. He wished he had gotten to know the painter before everything happened to his family, but even though they only met briefly, his instincts told him that this was a man to trust.  
When Paola told him Leonardo could fix his father's broken blade, he did not hesitate to visit him; the woman though it was because he needed vengeance, but unbeknownst to her, the need to see the painter was just as important as the need for retaliation. 

The look on the other man's face when he was given the task was something Ezio had never seen on anyone else's face; pure happiness, joy and excitement. Watching him work on it, how utterly lost in his work he got, made Ezio happy; even though he felt slightly guilty for feeling that moment of happiness in the middle of what was going on. But he honestly did not care; he should be allowed this moment of happiness, who knew when it would happen next?  
Even though he was watching intently, he was tired from the events of the past days and he dozed off. Leonardo woke him a while later, informing him that he was done repairing it and there was just one last thing to do; to cut off Ezio's left ring finger, as the blade demanded total devotion of its wielder.   
Had it been anyone else making that joke, he would not have been that forgiving, but when it came to Leonardo, it was just endearing, and just another part of him Ezio loved at the first instant.   
He would have thought twice about cutting it off too, had it been anyone else. But this was Leonardo, and Ezio trusted hi,, he trusted him with his life and with his secrets, even though he already had the feeling that he would not be able to tell the inventor as much as he would, because it would put him in danger, and that was the last thing Ezio wanted. All he wanted was for Leonardo to be safe; and he would do whatever he could to keep it that way.

 

That opportunity came quicker than he ever though; not even giving him time to leave the workshop.   
A guard showed up at the door and started beating Leonardo, because someone had seen Ezio enter the workshop and told the guards. Not hesitating a second, he quickly snuck up on the guard and used his hidden blade to stab his neck, snapping his neck and cutting off his air supply, leaving him dead before he hit the ground.  
That was his first time saving Leonardo's life and he would continue doing it; because he was his dearest friend and because he owed him his life. Leonardo would fashion more weapons for Ezio and decipher more Codex-pages, but the best thing he did, was to provide Ezio with a safe place to eat, sleep and relax; he would provide him with the support only a friend like Leonardo could give. And that friendship, that trust is the reason for the Assassin's debt to the painter; a debt that would never be repaid no matter how much Ezio worked for it.  
In his profession, that was the greatest gift anyone could ever hope to have. And Ezio was the most grateful man in the world for it. 

But the more he saw the other man, the more he thought about his feelings towards him, the more he realized his feelings extended over those of friendship. He could only compare it to the feelings he used to have for Cristina, because this was different, yet still the same. It felt stronger, deeper, it felt natural, even though his instincts and what he knew of the world around him screamed at him it was not right. To be accused of sodomy was one thing, but to be found participating in it was a whole different matter.   
Growing up, he had never thought this would happen. He was popular amongst the ladies, and when he started going fast with Cristina, he believed they would marry, live in a nice estate in Firenze and raise lots of little Ezio's and Cristina's.   
He could recall one thing his mother said to him when he met Leonardo the first time, that she wanted him to have other interests besides vaginas. Well, what would she think now then? What would his dear mother say if she found out he was interested in dicks now? Or rather, one special dick as well as the painter it was attached to?

Why he didn't tell Leo he owed him his life, he did not know. But when it came to feelings, Ezio wasn't in his element. Not at all. And the painter was kind to everyone, so why should Ezio ever dare to hope anything else? How could he ever dare to hope that he reciprocated Ezio's feelings?  
Instead of saying anything, instead of hinting at anything, time passed and Ezio visited Leonardo as often as he could, be it in _Firenze, Venezia or Monteriggioni_ after his uncle's suggestion.   
Each time they met, each time they spent together, no matter how small the amount of time was, it was still the best moments of his life. In those moments they did not speak much, but rather enjoyed the silence, the crackling of the fire on cold days and the scratching of quill on paper, brush on canvas or the sounds of tools when Leonardo was working on his various inventions or Ezio's newest weapons.   
It became clear that Leonardo was exited the most about the Codex-pages, because they were unlike anything he had ever seen, and it was clear that the brilliant-minded artist/inventor enjoyed anything new and challenging. Ezio knew there was a limit to the pages, and wowed to find other riddles for Leonardo to solve. 

And maybe, just maybe, Ezio found himself hoping; when this was all over, maybe he could travel with Leonardo, experience _Italia_ and maybe other countries as well.

One day, Ezio managed to admit to himself that he was in love with Leonardo. He even said it out loud as he was lying in a haystack by a crumbling tower in the mountain pass between Florence and Forlí, with his horse as the only witness.  
"I, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, son of Maria and the late Giovanni, brother of Claudia and the late Federico and Petruccio, nephew of Mario, Assassin on a mission for vengeance, am in love with Leonardo da Vinci, painter, sculptor and inventor"  
He felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off his chest, even though he knew he would never be able to admit his love to Leonardo. He wished he could, but he was afraid he would lose his friend and companion; after all, Leonardo was his dearest, oldest friend, and he owed him his life.

Oh, if he only knew


	5. Malik Al-Sayf

Malik al-Sayf was a man of few words when it came to Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad, but when it came to dealing with the man, he knew how to word his phrases in the way that would sting most.  
It had not always been so however.

They had grown up together, trained together, lived together, gone on missions together; they had become comrades, had become Brothers in more than the meaning of Brotherhood; they had a deep connection, as if they were brothers by blood.  
Indeed, they had always been close.

Malik had always felt close to his younger brother Kadar, even though they rarely met, and he had always adored him. Kadar had always looked up to his older brother, and was really proud of him.  
But when Kadar started his own training, Malik's worries became true; he started to look up to Altaïr more than he did to Malik. And that was another thing on the list over things Malik were jealous at Altaïr for.  
There were only a couple of things on that list already: The fact that Altaïr was Al Mualim's favorite, that he was better in every form of combat than Malik - with the exception of swordsmanship, Malik's name meant King of Swords after all - and now the fact that Kadar looked up to him. 

Al Mualim had always favored the Eagle of Masyaf. The fact that he did made Malik petty and jealous and Altaïr cocky. He became too sure of himself, as least as far as Malik was concerned.  
And, unknown to Malik at the time, Altaïr would become even cockier and therefor cause a great incident.

Malik, Altaïr and Kadar were in Solomon's Temple, having been sent on a mission that Al Mualim had said only they could complete; getting hold of a kind of treasure before the Templar's did.  
That is where Altaïr made the biggest mistake of them all; the one which would cost them their friendship. He murdered an innocent; exposed himself; and he would lead the Templars to Masyaf. In other words, he broke all three tenants of the Creed.  
But that was not the gravest mistake.  
In being ignorant, and choosing to expose himself; Altaïr was at fault for the event that would happen within mere minutes; the damage that would cause Malik to lose his arm and the loss of Kadar's life.  
Altaïr had been thrown through a wall, and therefor he could not help Malik and Kadar fight the Templars. Because of Altaïr, they almost failed the mission. Almost.  
But because of Malik, they did not.

Malik returned to their stronghold in Masyaf with the artifact. He reached the library where Al Mualim and Altaïr were discussing the events. Upon presenting the artifact, Malik said _"I've what your favorite failed to find. Here. Take it"_  
Standing there, having just presented what they were told to get, the loss of Kadar fresh in his mind, Malik expected praise. However, he was not granted so. Just then, a guard came, telling them Robert de Sable was standing at the gate, with a gathering of Templar soldiers.  
Before Malik could move to join the others, he fainted from the loss of blood.

Upon waking up, he had tried to wipe at his brow with his left arm, but found he could now. Carefully moving his head to look at his arm, for when he tried to move it too fast, he got dizzy, he discovered something horrible; his arm was gone, from where his elbow should have been and down. He screamed in horror and pain.  
From then on, he knew things would never be the same; he could never be an assassin again. His place in the Order was no longer his.  
And he knew his anger for the events would always be directed towards the Eagle. 

The next time they met it was some weeks later, when Altaïr was sent to Jerusalem to deal with a man called Talal. Malik still had a place in the order, but he was no longer considered an Assassin; he was now dai and rafiq of the Assassin Bureau of Jerusalem.  
Upon entering the bureau, Altaïr offered the traditional greeting.  
 _"Safety and peace Malik"_  
 _"Your presence here deprives me of both"_ was Malik's venomous and snappish reply.  
And when Altaïr had the guts to DEMAND Malik's help and information towards the target, Malik's hate grew even stronger.  
Yet he held back, and treated him as he was any other Novice, for that was what Altaïr was now; no longer a Master Assassin, after being stripped of his rank by Al Mualim when Malik had told him of the event in Solomon's Temple. He told him some places he could gather information from, and sent him on his way, being very specific on the fact that he was the one to decide whether or not he had enough information to assassinate his target; he would not get the feather until Malik was sure he knew enough.

As soon as the Eagle left, Malik closed his logbook with a loud bang, fuming over the fact that even after being stripped of his rank, Altaïr was still as cocky as ever; why had he not yet learned after his mistakes back at the Temple?  
How dared he still go on as he always had, demanding aid instead of working to earn it?!  
Malik cursed him, cursed the man he had once considered his Brother? 

Upon Altaïr's return a couple of days later, Malik found himself in a fouler mood than usual; how was it that the Eagle managed to get out the worst of him just by his presence?  
But despite that, Altaïr had actually done as he was asked; leaving Malik surprised, but without showing he was so of course. Altaïr had managed to gather more information than he needed to take care of his target; and Malik did his work in recording it in his logbook, and then provided Altaïr with his feather.  
 _"Rest, prepare, cry in the corner, do whatever it is you do before a mission, only make sure you do it quietly."_  
When Altaïr lingered, seeming not to want leave, Malik told him _"A wise approach, Altaïr. If you stay here, Talal will just die of old age"_  
And so the Eagle flew out to deal with his target, leaving Malik to himself and his mind.

Malik had only one, great secret; and this was it:  
Through their years together, Malik had grown to love Altair. It hadn't mattered if he'd wanted to or not; at first he was so scared and did know how to cope with being in love with another man, he had even tried to ignore the other teen in a desperate attempt to get rid of those feelings. Clearly it hadn't worked, because he still loved him.  
How could he even manage to love a man who'd caused him so much grief?  
How could he manage to love the man responsible for his brother's death, for the loss of his arm?  
How could he manage to love the man he was insanely jealous of?  
Even through the hatred, the utter loathing he felt for Altair, the strongest feeling was still that of love.  
Malik hated himself for it, he felt so weak. He knew there was nothing he could do about those feelings, yet he still tried. He tried out of hurt, out of embarrassment, of anger, of pain. And out of love.  
Because that was what it came down to in the end, wasn't it?  
 _"If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were."_

And wasn't that the reason Malik was so confused?  
The love for his brother by blood, overshadowed by the love of the Brother responsible for his death?  
After all, that was what it came down to in the end.

They had worked up a form for understanding, and if Altair ever found out about Malik's feelings, they would forever ruin what they had so fragilely built together; one word too much and it would come crashing together.  
Malik was confused; he was not sure if it would be a good or a bad thing

And yet, if he only knew


	6. Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

Altaïr was the man almost everybody loved to hate and hated to love. The best of his brothers in fighting and a smart man as well, all the others - assassins as well as novices - envied him.  
He grew up as their master's favorite; always being the one to demonstrate towards the others in battle. He was the most loyal, the most trusted man in the group and became a full-fledge Assassin before others his age, like Malik. 

But he began asking questions as to why the Order was the way it was, and Al Mualim was scared he might find out the truth, because even though he was loyal and trustworthy, Al Mualim wanted the power of the Apple of Eden for himself. So when he found the location of it, he sent out Altaïr, Malik and Kadar to fetch it, hoping the Eagle of Masyaf would return alone with the Apple, leaving Malik and his brother behind to die. It almost happened to. But Al Mualim underestimated Malik's potential and Altaïr's arrogance. 

Instead of abiding the Creed as Malik asked him, he chose to expose himself, and therefor Malik and Kadar, almost failing his most important mission to date.  
And even though Al Mualim was disappointed Altaïr did not manage the task, he was, in his own, twisted way, glad Malik survived to bring him the Apple.  
And it gave him the chance he needed to make Altaïr obedient and to get Malik away from the stronghold, before he too asked questions. He would have to kill Malik if he did. 

Altaïr was "killed" and then resurrected, got stripped of his rank, made a novice once more and ordered to take the lives of nine men in order to pay the debt he now owned his master.  
Malik was gloating. He righteously blamed Altaïr for his brother's death as well as the loss of his own arm, but what they both failed to realize was that Malik was in the wrong as well, the blame was not Altaïr's alone entirely. Months would pass before they would realize that. 

Altaïr got three names, and was sent off to Damascus to deal with Tamir, Acre to deal with Garnier, and Jerusalem for Talal.  
He started in Damascus, where the dai provided him with the locations he needed to collect information. He quickly did so, before returning and earning his feather. He then set off to deal with his target.  
Careful as he was though, the bells still tolled, even after he had returned to the bureau; he fell asleep to the sound of it.  
He returned to Masyaf and got promoted one rank as a token of what he had done.  
The same procedure took place in Acre.  
Then the Eagle took flight towards Jerusalem.

In the city, he found Malik in the bureau. The last words they uttered to eachother in the Temple rang in his head.  
 _"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. Understand these words. It matters not how we complete our task, only that it is done,"_ Altaïr had said  
 _"But this is not the way of--"_ Malik began.  
Altaïr cut him off: _"My way is better."_

One would think Altaïr had learned from his previous mistakes, but this was not the case. He was surprised to say the least when he found that Malik was the dai, but acted towards him as he would have done towards any other dai, demanding information.  
He did not understand why Malik was so mad at him; a part of his job was to provide information after all. He did not understand that it was because it was demanded, not requested of him.  
Malik provided him with locations where he would find information, nothing more, nothing less. And so Altaïr disappeared with the flutter of wings from the pigeons and that of his robes.

He returned hours later, near sunset, with information. Malik deemed it barely enough to provide him a feather, but he had learned enough to take out his target.  
If Altaïr had the ability of mind-reading, he would have known that Malik didn't do it to be mean, no it was to keep Altaïr safe. No matter how he looked at it, no matter how much Malik hated the cursed Eagle of Masyaf, he still cared.  
But then again, if Altaïr DID know that, it was not certain he'd appreciate it. 

Altaïr left to kill his third target. And just like with his two previous targets, the bell tolled, warning the Templars as well as the whole town of what had occurred, including Malik of course.  
Malik was disappointed, but not surprised; unbeknownst to the Eagle, he'd received letters from the dai's in Damascus and Acre informing him on the matter. When Altaïr returned to the bureau, he received scolding concerning it. The Eagle guessed Malik wasn't surprised, but he didn't know if he could actually help it, and he was too proud to ask assistance on the matter.  
Instead he listened to the scolding of his once-close friend and delivered the feather and required information when Malik was done.  
The sound the log-book made when Malik thumped it down on the desk would always stay with Altaïr; as a reminder of how his actions affected Malik.  
Altaïr wished he wasn't so proud; wished he had the courage to apologize, but he did not have the courage, and he was too proud.  
Instead, he fled as soon as he could, finding a nearby roof-garden where he fell asleep. 

When he woke some hours later, he was hungry, but chose not to return to the bureau, not feeling like arguing with Malik again. Instead, he went to the market to buy some food, found a fountain where he filled his water-pouch, and set out to find his horse so he could start on his journey back to Masyaf.

He received the information on his next three targets upon his return, and was allowed a day's rest before returning back to Acre, Damascus and Jerusalem.  
The killings of the next two targets went by in the same manner; he met with the dai's, found enough information to get the feather, killed his targets, and the churchbells tolled again.  
He was mad with himself for not being careful; he felt he was a disappointment to Malik the way he acted.  
So when he reached Jerusalem, he made sure to collect more information than he'd previously deemed enough, hoping to please Malik.  
If the other man was pleased, he did not show it; he acted much the same as he had during the last time.  
And when Altaïr went out to deal with his target, he tried as best as he could not to make the bells toll.  
But alas, they did, and as he ran, he felt his cheeks redden out of anger, embarrassment and disappointment towards himself.  
No wonder Malik was so mad with him. The Eagle wondered if the King of Swords would have made a better job, had he not lost his arm. Altaïr became even angrier with himself; he needed to stop wondering about that.

He also needed to stop thinking about Malik the way he was now; wondering if there was anything worth salvaging of what had once been between them, and what Altaïr had secretly hoped would become more.  
He fought the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall as he carefully made his way back to report to Malik.  
At least Malik wasn't as mad at him as he'd been when he was in the city last. Altaïr found the thought comforting as he returned to hand over the feather and explained how he had fulfilled his mission.  
He didn't linger when he was done, and just like last time he disappeared as soon as he could.

He wanted to tell Malik what his victims said when they were caught in that strange fog; on the line separating the living from the dead, but he couldn't. What was the point anyways? Malik wouldn't believe him, and he'd just tell Altaïr to get on with the missions, not to worry about such things.  
If Al Mualim spoke the truth about the Templars lying, then he shouldn't worry, right?  
Al Mualim had to tell him the truth, didn't he? He was the master after all  
But in the back of Altaïr's head, a voice told him not to blindly trust his master, or anyone else in fact.

He knew it was foolish, yet he still questioned his master when he got back from Jerusalem, just like he had done when he returned from his other missions.  
And just like then, Al Mualim said exactly what Altaïr expected him to; that he shouldn't trust them, that they lied, that they only tried to trick him; they were delusional .  
So Altaïr pretended to believe him.  
He got his new targets, another day's rest and a rank restored to him. Three targets to go now, two of which he got now, the last he would get when he returned next. 

When he took care of the next two targets, he couldn't help but hope his next target would be in Jerusalem; he had to see Malik again, because he did not know when he'd get to see him when he was done with these nine targets.  
And as before, the events happened in the same manner; information collected, feather rewarded, targets murdered, feather and information returned, and the Eagle took off towards Masyaf, gaining his last target and another rank. As soon as he returned from Jerusalem after killing Robert de Sable, he would be restored to his previous rank; his actions in Solomon's Temple redeemed.  
But Altaïr knew it would not be enough for Malik, it would never be enough; because those nine lives could not bring back his lost arm; could not bring back Kadar, and it could not bring back their companionship. 

What Altaïr didn't know, was that he would be surprised over two things when he arrived in Jerusalem. The first was when he was at Majd Addin's funeral, where he would find Robert.  
But they knew he was there, and he fought off the guards before fighting Robert himself. But it was not Robert he found out as they were caught in the fog; it was a woman, a woman named Maria Thorpe. 

She explained to him why she was there instead of the Eagle's target, which made Altaïr realize the danger they were all in; Robert de Sable was planning on uniting the Templars and Saracens so they could defeat the Assassin's. He left her alive, as she was not his target and returned swiftly to Malik.  
He explained the situation to him and they got into an argument over the Creed; Altaïr accusing Malik of using the Creed as a shield, not realizing what was going on directly in front of him.  
Altaïr, knowing he might die, apologized to Malik before getting ready to depart; he had to say it, even though he knew the other man wouldn't accept it. He was right in some ways, not in others.  
 _"I do not accept your apology,"_ Malik stated.  
 _"I understand."_ Despite knowing he wouldn't accept it, Altaïr felt the rejection sting.  
 _"No, you don't. I do not accept your apology because you are not the same man who went with me to Solomon's Temple."_  
Utter relief flooded through the Eagle's body at those words.  
Altaïr advised Malik to leave the city, and find out what he could, whilst the Eagle himself would take off to Arsuf to stop Robert's plans.

He fought his way through the Templars stationed on the way, and reached Robert and King Richard at last. He tried to explain to the King, tried to tell him the truth, but he would not trust the Assassin blindly, as he had good reasons not to. Instead, he said he would let God decide, by letting the men fight.  
Of course Robert, the coward he was, let his men fight before him to tire the Eagle. And even though Altaïr had to slay a group of men before he could finally battle his last target, he still managed to win.  
He had been wise, had noted the way the fake Robert, Maria, moved; because she was trained by Robert.  
The Eagle pounced on his ninth target, and then they were in the fog. They spoke, like Altaïr had spoken to his past eight targets and the woman. And through the Templar's words, Altaïr's fears came true. The man's last words sent chills down Altaïr's back.  
 _"It is ironic That I, your greatest enemy, kept you safe from harm But now you've taken my life and in the process ended your own."_

 

When Altaïr returned to Masyaf after slaying Robert de Sable, he was met with a quiet, empty village, and a lone citizen who spoke madness.  
He was attacked by his own brothers, those he had grown up with.  
Altaïr hated that he had to hurt them, so he tried his best to knock them unconscious; he would not kill them unless he absolutely had to. 

He had almost reached the keep when he was saved by Malik and loyal comrades; assassins who had not been enslaved by the Apple.  
And it was there Malik uttered words Altaïr would not have believed he would ever hear from him, even after their last conversation.  
 _"Safety and peace, Malik."_ the Eagle of Masyaf greeted him.  
 _"Your presence here will deliver us both."_ the King of Swords replied.  
The warmth that filled Altaïr at those words was indescribable; it made his heart flutter.  
He was now ready to face Al Mualim, come what may.  
Deep in his heart, he knew that everything would be okay between Malik and himself; all he had to do was defeat their master and survive.

And then, maybe he would tell Malik the truth; no more wondering, no more speculations, no more "if he only knew."


	7. Ezio Auditore da Firenze - 2

Ezio

It is a rare thing to experience love at first sight, and it is a precious thing as well, for you feel like trusting that person completely and it might be hard to hold back.  
The worst things imaginable are if the person you fall for don’t love you back, or simply pretends to and betrays you at a later point.

No matter the outcome, there is nothing you can do about it but try to accept it.

If you’re really lucky, the person loves you back.

That is what happened to Ezio Auditore. He had fallen hard and fast for Leonardo da Vinci when they met mere days before Ezio discovered his heritage and had the extreme fortune of Leonardo feeling the same.   
It had taken them some time to admit their feelings to one another, so they had sadly lost some precious time.

And now, as he followed the leader of the assassins in _Konstantiniyye_ , he found himself experiencing it for the second time in his life. 

It came as a shock to him, for he never expected to love another person as much as - or more than - his dear Leo.  
But here he was, in company of the man that was the clear contradiction to that belief.

He only grew to care more and more for Yusuf, who treated him like a close friend, and their friendship was an easy, teasing one.  
Well… Yusuf stood for most of the teasing anyways, but Ezio didn’t mind; he found his behaviour endearing. 

The days were filled with missions, so they saw little of one another, but they worked closely on the training of their new recruits.

Other times they would spar with one another; testing the others skills and learning new tricks.  
Ezio enjoyed having Yusuf teach him the workings and tricks of the hookblade and bomb-crafting; especially since working with Yusuf was quite funny and Ezio felt younger because of the other man.

When he started working with Sofia, he found he quite enjoyed her company, but no matter how fond he was of her and the way her behaviour reminded him of Leonardo, he found his thoughts straying to Yusuf.

The nights were the worst, for he found himself dreaming of the other man, yearning for what he was certain would never come to be.  
Sometimes Leonardo appeared in his dreams, but he was understanding; never condemning or mad at him.

They had agreed -though Ezio was very reluctant - when Ezio departed that they would stay friends - nothing more.  
Leonardo could feel his age, and Ezio wasn’t that young himself and seeing as Leonardo might be dead before Ezio returned or that Ezio might never return alive, it was “probably for the best,” as Leo had put it when he was at the docs seeing Ezio of.

It hadn’t stopped Ezio’s heart from breaking. When he left, it felt as if his heart left his body, trying to stay with Leo, and Ezio knew then and there he would never see his lover again in life. 

Hadn’t it been for the purpose of this trip, he would have succumbed to his grief. He had lost so many in the course of his life, but leaving Leo was one of the worst things. Each loss added to his already long list only made it harder to bear, but this was a cause much larger than him, so he had to fulfil it. 

It got worse and worse by each dream. What had started out by confessions, made its way to kissing, touching, thrusting and love-making – all taking place in dark alleys, in secret hideouts outside of the city only the two of them knew about, on top of the Galata tower, or the walled-in garden belonging to Sofia’s bookshop when she was out on errands. 

Ezio began dreading sleep, and would often stay up late reading the books in the library in the hideout, those he bought from the various bookstores and those he collected on various missions. He still got enough sleep, but he kept trying to exhaust his mind enough to be able to sleep without being haunted by these hellish dreams.

He might have grown to enjoy them – at least to a certain point – if it hadn’t been for the fact that he would actually have to face Yusuf most days, and the more vivid the dreams got, the harder it was for Ezio to pretend everything was normal. So instead, he spent more and more time away from the places he knew Yusuf would most likely spend his time, and focused on training the recruits, staying with Sofia as well as collecting and reading even more books when he wasn’t working on any missions. 

But even so, the Eagle’s mind would stray to the joker whenever he stopped reading, stopped talking or listening or simply in every single moment he let his mind wander from what he was doing. 

Falling for Yusuf, so hard and fast scared him, for even though he had experienced it before, there was no guarantee it would end the same way this time around.   
Sometimes he briefly thought about confessing, just to be able to escape the anxiety and doubt from gnawing at his mind all the time.   
But he had decided he wouldn’t do it, for he would rather suffer in silence than lose his closest friend. 

At night his mind was filled with possible outcomes of their lives together if Yusuf felt even a small part for him of the way he did for Yusuf.   
During the day, when he spent time with the joker, he would find himself spacing out, not focusing on what the other man was saying, and instead focusing on his body.  
He focused on the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited about something, on the way his hands moved when he explained and showed, on the way his lips moved and pronounced each word, the tongue wetting his lips, the sway of his hips when he moved, the muscles rippling when he climbed, fought and sparred and the look on his face when he laughed at his own jokes and tricks. 

But always, at the back of his mind, lay the same question he had previously asked himself when it came to Leonardo; _‘What if he only knew?’_


	8. Yusuf Tazim da Istanbul

~ Yusuf Tazim da Istanbul ~

 

To be loved by an assassin is a beautiful and dangerous thing.  
You will know that you will always be protected, either by that person or by the fellow assassins.

But you will also be in constant danger, for if anyone finds out about the connection, you will be in danger of being used as a way to get back at the one that loves you.

Yusuf had once loved a young woman named Samila Djuric, but he had lost her to the Templars after a violent mission, after which a few of the surviving guards had followed him back to her place. He'd been young, careless, and unaware of the fact that there had been guards hiding; ready to trace him back to his hideout.

They'd killed her, right in front of his eyes, restraining him, so he could do no more than watch, scream and try to twist lose.  
They hadn't even granted her a swift, easy death. Instead, they had stripped her down to her undergarments, and sliced shallow cuts up and down her arms; barely deep enough to draw blood.  
Then they had moved on cutting her torso through the thin fabric still covering her, coating the sheer white garment in deep red hues.

Yusuf had almost fallen to his knees, only the guards were keeping him up. His voice was raw, but he still tried to scream her name - for help, for the guards to stop, to free him, for anything. It was to no avail.  
They executed his beloved in front of his eyes, in the slowest, cruellest way.  
The only thing stopping them from taking turns at raping her was the fact that she wasn't pure, so they didn't wish to soil themselves.

She was still barely alive when they left, damaged beyond all hope of healing.  
Samila died in Yusuf's arms, and he swore he'd never love another person again.

But now he found himself looking at Ezio Auditore de lalala, renowned Master and Mentor of the Italian branch of the Assassin order.  
And during the few short weeks they had known each other, Yusuf had grown to love the man, which was exactly what he had sworn to never do again.

He pretended nothing was off, and instead he enjoyed the time they spent together, teasing him with his lack of knowledge of the hook-blade and the bombs.  
Teaching Ezio was pleasant, and Yusuf felt thrilled to be able to teach new skills to a person so known for what he had done.

The first time Yusuf saw Ezio, he'd felt a great pull towards the other man, not knowing at the time what it meant.  
After that - as they got to know each other - he seemed to always know where to find Ezio when he was on a mission.  
He never let the other man know he was there.

The times Ezio was at Sofia's bookshop, Yusuf found himself to be jealous.  
So whenever the Mentor was with her, the joker made sure to keep himself busy on other missions, lest he let his mind wander to the mentor.

His dreams became troubled after the first few weeks. He had good dreams and bad dreams - though some were both - but they were troubled all.

Yusuf often dreamed of a life spent with Ezio; as his lover, as his boyfriend, as his husband.   
Most times they were good dreams, where they had retired so they could spend time together, or travelled, or worked on various missions with one another.  
Sometimes, they would take a turn for the worse, with the taste of a memory lingering afterwards. He'd dream he would come home from a mission, only to find Ezio tied up, naked, with shallow cuts all over his body.  
Ezio would often be bruised and broken, barely managing to breathe because of broken ribs having punctured his lungs.  
He would be unable to speak after having screamed himself hoarse, barely being able to see through swollen eyelids.  
His lips would be swollen, cracked and bleeding.  
And when Yusuf tried to free him, Ezio would fall into his arms, a knife protruding from his back.  
Then life would leave him as he breathed Yusuf's name for the last time.

Yusuf would wake crying from those dreams, glad he slept alone so no one would see this weakness.

The good dreams were happy ones, lives filled with love, discoveries, knowledge, teaching and training.  
It didn't matter if they were training novices or assassins, or if they were training each other.  
It didn't matter if they were learning about and from others or each other.

At night, they would always fall into bed together, exhausted from the day, holding each other tight.  
Then they would learn the other about themselves, teach the other about themselves. No matter how long they had lived together, how much they had learned about each other, they would always learn something new.  
Sometimes they learned about the lives or family or friends of one another.  
Other times it was about pleasure, about what they knew they liked, what they wanted to try, what they learned and grew to like.

From those dreams, Yusuf would wake smiling but aching; both his heart and his member.  
After those dreams, he would also be happy he slept alone.  
And he would have problems looking at Ezio in a normal manner.

Yusuf didn't know what was worse when it came to spending time with Ezio after his dreams; imagining him bruised, broken and bleeding, or bent over the table they worked on - or any other piece of furniture - panting, moaning, screaming Yusuf's name as he came deep within him.

Yusuf often though about telling Ezio, but the fear of rejection and the fear of actually seeing Ezio the way he was displayed in his nightmares kept him back.  
He honestly didn't know Yusuf was scared that Ezio would end up marrying Sofia and taking her to Italy, leaving him behind here, as nothing more than a friend he would soon forget.  
As nothing more than a faded memory.

When Yusuf went to sleep two months before Ezio would leave for Cappadocia, there was only one thought on his mind.  
'If he only knew.'


	9. Desmond Miles 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****THIS BE CONTAINING SPOILERS! YE BE WARNED!****  
> Spoilers for The Lost Archive inside

Desmond Miles loved Shaun Hastings with all his being.  
That never changed.  
But he changed when he was trapped inside the Animus.  
For when he was there, he met Clay Kaczmarek, otherwise known as Subject 16.  
Desmond had called him crazy, thinking him insane after hearing what the man had done to himself and seen what he'd done to the room Desmond was being kept in at Abstergo.  
But now, as Desmond slowly got to learn about him, he thought him nothing but a lost soul.

Sure, Clay was crazy as hell, but it was no wonder knowing what Abstergo had done to him, how they had treated him.

Desmond unravelled Clay's mind bit by bit, sentence by jumbled sentence.  
And as he did, he grew to care for him.  
In the start, Desmond cared for Clay as a friend, as someone who needed to be taken care of.  
At first, he believed he was going batshit insane himself, caring for a memory of a man who was dead and buried months ago.  
But in the Animus, that didn't matter.  
Here, Clay was as real as anyone out there in the world.  
Desmond could talk with him, touch him, hear him and see him, and - as far as Desmond's concerned - that made Clay real.  
In time, the bartender felt his feelings for the insane interior decorator change and grow into something different, something more.  
He became conflicted, torn between his love for Shaun and his new-found feelings for Clay.  
As he went through Ezio's memories, he found he wasn't the only one, for Ezio had been torn himself.  
Ezio had loved Leonardo for so many years, and had found himself torn when he had met and fallen for Yusuf.  
Desmond often wondered what Clay would have been like, had he not been forced to stay in the Animus for days on end.  
Would he have fallen for him, not Shaun, had he still been alive?  
He couldn't answer that, and there was no use dwelling on the past, for he could not change anything, no matter how much he wished to.

Clay was… well, for a lack of a better word, he was special.  
Not in a bad or wrong way, but in a weird way. He didn't seem quite normal, if that was the term to base everyone on.

Had he always been a bit different? Had he always been a bit special, or was that just another aspect of his personality after the Animus had driven him insane?  
Desmond wished he could answer that, but he wasn't sure he could.

So he learned about Clay was in his younger days, learned that he had wanted to be an astronaut, but his father had wanted him to go a different way.  
His father had wanted him to be an engineer, to follow in his families footsteps.  
Disappointed that his son wanted something more for himself, Clay and his father became estranged.

In the end, Desmond learned, Clay had been accepted into a college to study engineering, but his father had still been disappointed – this time because he hadn't been accepted to a better one.

Clay had been driven to secretly visit a psychiatrist to discuss his feelings, as he never felt he was good enough.  
Growing up, he suffered with developmental disorder, and that coupled with the neglectful attitude of his father had given him psychological problems.

He started looking for acceptance, and that, Clay explained, was when Desmond's father William had recruited him to their cause.  
He had been told a woman named Lucy would be there, and that she would help him get out when they got what they were after.  
William told him that Lucy was an assassin too, and had been working undercover for them at the Templar organization known as Abstergo Industries.

That was when Desmond learned the horrible truth; Lucy had changed sides.  
She had abandoned their cause, and joined the Templar ranks instead.  
When she found out Clay knew, she said she was sorry, but she couldn't help him escape.

Instead, Clay was put in the Animus for hours and often days at a time, just lying there in limbo.

Desmond refused to believe him at first, refused to believe the woman who had saved him from Abstergo had been a traitor.  
Inside him though, there had been a seed of doubt for a while, and this revelation only added to that.

Even though the bartender wanted to believe Clay, he wasn't sure he could.  
What if this tale was just another part of the madness that had taken over his mind and transferred into his ghost in the Animus?

And yet, his heart told him the other man couldn't possibly lie to him, there was nothing for him to gain.  
Both Clay and Lucy were dead, so what was the point in spinning such a tale?

The days passed, and the two subject spent time in each other's company when Desmond needed a break from Ezio and Altaïr's memories.

After witnessing what Ezio found when he returned from Cappadocia, Desmond was grief-stricken and swore to himself that if he survived this war, he would make sure no such thing happened to Shaun.

But what about Clay – what would happen to his memory inside the Animus?  
Or what if Desmond couldn't get out in time, and ended up "drooling in a hospital ward," chewing on his own tongue, as Clay had once stated?  
What would happen if Desmond died while in the Animus – would his mind be in there, just like Clay?

Desmond didn't want to think about the possible outcomes, for if he got out and survived the war, he could be with Shaun. If he died and left a ghostly image within the machine, he could possibly stay there with Clay.  
But if he ended up chained to a chair, not knowing day from night or good from bad, he would have neither man.

Could he actually confess his feelings for a man who had been dead for months, and was nothing more than a ghost?  
Desmond didn't know, but he wanted to.  
Clay was his guardian angel – even if Desmond didn't believe in that crap.

His last thought before he went back to feel Ezio's grief was "I wish I could tell him how I feel."  
His first thought after the grief hit him was "If he only knew"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TO LAST CHAPTER!!!  
> Just cray-Clay left now...


	10. If He Only Knew - Clay Kaczmarek

If He Only Knew – Clay

 

Clay doesn’t like leaving Desmond alone.   
Clay doesn’t like Desmond leaving him alone.  
He knows they have to.  
He knows Desmond has to go off so he can separate his own memories from those of Altaïr and Ezio, before it’s too late.

Clay gets lonely when Desmond is gone, lost in those memories.   
And he hates the haunted look in Desmond’s eyes when he comes back from his own memories, having to re-live the life he grew up with, having to re-discover the memories of what he had to do.

Clay hates the fact that he needs to go through his own memories, wishes there was another way.   
But he can’t go with Desmond, and Desmond can’t go with him. Which is something they both know.

It takes Clay a while before he gathers up the courage to enter his own memories. 

He knows he makes a bigger deal of it that it really is, but he can’t help it.  
Clay knows that, unlike Desmond, he can’t feel pain anymore. His body is gone, long turned into worm food, or rather fish food – he was dropped into the Tiber after all. 

But it seems his form can still feel the pain, can still remember what it’s like to hurt, and it seems it can still feel the emotions he thought was long gone; memories stirred because of Desmond.

So Clay enters his memories, hoping to survive the torment he knows is hidden within.

***

One of the first things Clay sees is his grave or memorial or what the hell it is. He doesn’t know. He’s not sure if his family ever got his body.  
Well, it’s not _technically_ his grave or memorial or whatever, but it looks like what he guessed it had. Still, it looks fake, not real. Ten to twelve chairs around the hole in the ground, some flowers, one wraith, a picture of him in the clothes he’d worn since he began at Abstergo, and a simple headstone, which only had his name and date of death on it. No _Rest in Peace_ or _Requiescat in Pace_ , no date of birth, no words to say he would be missed or be forever in someone’s heart or memory. Nothing.

He hears the words of the priest, something from the Bible or some shit, something that was said at all funerals he guessed. Not that he’d ever been to one. 

Clay sees no other way out, and so he takes a deep breath and walked off the edge, into the grave.   
He has no physical body in here, inside his memories – not that he has one any more outside of this place anyway – but he can still feel the jarring impact when his feet touches the ground.   
Only one way to continue on now, so he walks through the narrow tunnel surrounded by tight-packed earth.   
Some roots stuck out of the walls, roof and floor, and even though he is six feet underground, it wasn’t dark. 

The tunnel takes a turn every once in a while, and soon the tight-packed earth gives way to concrete. Clay continues walking and soon sees a staircase materialize at the end of the tunnel.   
As he walks up it, a white light surrounds him, blinding him, as a sharp noise grows louder and louder until he wants to scream.  
Then it all faded.

When Clay wakes up, he’s back at the Animus Island, lying on his back. Opening his eyes, the first thing he sees is Desmond standing over him, a worried look on his face.   
“Dude, are you okay?” Desmond asks. Clay wonders if Desmond remembered that he’s dead, and could therefore not feel any pain. He decides against telling him that, not wanting or needing to see a look of sympathy or pity on the other man’s face. 

***

The voices. So many voices battering against his brain, trying to get inside. But how could they try to get inside? Weren’t they already inside his head?   
Clay didn’t know, couldn’t answer. Three voices; one in English, one in French, one in Italian – and all inside him, and outside him; surrounding him  
He kept on pushing forward, only one goal in his mind; to get out of there, to get out so he could see Desmond again. 

Voices. All those voices. Tormenting him, trying to make him stop, trying to make him give up, trying to make him surrender and not find the truth again.  
He has to keep going, he has to. Not for his own sake.   
No, for Desmond’s sake. Desmond needs to be safe from harm; he needs to be safe from the traitor. 

If only Clay could remember who it was. 

The answer was hiding somewhere, and he knows he’s getting closer, for each task, each memory gets harder to get through, harder to figure out. 

_‘Soon’_ , he thinks as he walks on, his shapeless body curling up against itself, as his hands pressed themselves against his head, trying, trying to keep those voices away. 

*** 

Numb with the realization of who the traitor is, Clay has barely any time to react when an alarm goes off.  
 _‘Out. I need to get out!’_ Clay looked around, seeing the black and red boxes move towards him. _‘Find the escape!’_   
Only one way out. Clay moves, runs - whatever it is this form does – towards the only exit he can imagine; the door on the movie screen. 

*** 

Sings and symbols. They cover the walls, glowing a faded red. They are the marks he painted on the walls in the room he was held captive in and in the room with the Animus. They tried to wash them away, but Desmond told him he could still see it by using Eagle Vision.   
Some of them he hid in the Animus throughout Italy, each of them holding a piece of the Truth. 

Very few things make sense now however. He can’t remember most of the symbols and their meaning, and the Chinese and other languages are impossible to even try to translate.  
No matter.  
Two sentences make sense, the first one being _‘I’ve entered the Abyss and never returned.’_ The other is _‘We are all books containing thousands of pages and within each of them lies an IRREPARABLE truth.’_

The symbol that makes the most sense, is the barcode he placed on the villa in Monteriggioni; the one with the number **12212012** under it. The date the Templars sends up their satellite.

***

Visions. Through all his memories, Clay had visions. A staircase, a church window, an arch and a hole in the ground where floorboards have been ripped up… Some others as well, but he can’t remember. 

Now he sees them. There is the staircase. There is the hole, the window, the arch.   
Clay knows they must signalize the end. 

So he walks on, winding through the paths.  
He struggles with crossing the river, and finds peace in the garden. Just like the first garden, this one offers solitude and rest. In here, his memories doesn’t plague him, the voices leaves him alone.  
In here, he is free to think about Desmond.

Clay didn’t know when it happened, for as time went on (he wasn’t sure about the amount of time that had passed; it was impossible to know inside the Animus), he found that Desmond was constantly on his mind.  
The ex-bartender was always at the front and centre of Clay’s thoughts, and always his motivation for moving on, for getting through these memories, and enduring the voices which plagued him so. 

When he was ready to go on, he did. As he walks, closer and closer to the end, he ponders the thoughts he now has about Desmond.   
He tries to figure out what has changed, and finds it difficult to do so. 

Clay decides he cares about the man. It’s as simple and complicated as that.  
It’s simple because it explains quite a lot; yet complicated because he doesn’t quite know which way he cares about him.  
Does he care about him as a friend or family? As someone he was destined to help? Or is it something more, something he doesn’t feel quite confident phrasing or thinking about just yet?

The former engineer doesn’t know if he wants the answer to that question.

Yet it seems he can’t quite stop wondering, hoping. 

Because even though he’s not ready to admit it, he cares about Desmond as more than a friend, which is something he did not intend.   
Desmond is his successor; the one Clay killed himself for in order to help and guide him.

Clay knows it’s impossible, he knows Desmond loves Shaun; he’s heard him enough through the Animus 2.0, and Desmond talks in that state he’s in sometimes, when is neither awake or asleep.

Still, there is a voice in the back of his mind, whispering to him, trying to make him keep the small flicker of hope that has ignited during the time he’s been lost in his memories.

And so Clay’s last thought – as he takes a leap of faith at the end of his last memory – is _‘If he only knew.’_


End file.
